


Clary Sage

by May_T



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: I am sorry. I really am working on the story I posted three billion years ago, This is a Fix-it fic of worst kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7631800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May_T/pseuds/May_T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a world where all hell doesn't break loose until Clary is a little older, Magnus makes a novice mistake and accidently creates a monster, and in which Clary becomes very wise and powerful by accidently bleeding on things. </p>
<p>This is unbeta'd, barely edited, and kind of a shitshow. enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clary Sage

 "You look tired, Clary." Jocelyn Fray was sitting stretched out on the couch, calling into the kitchen where her daughter was chopping up the discount fruit Luke had got at the market and arranging it on a plate. "-after sleeping until 11 o'clock. Are you sure you want to go to this thing tonight? I'm not sure you should."

Clary took several deep breaths. It was only three months 'till her eighteenth birthday, and she and Simon had a shared spare bedroom in Eric's brother's shitty apartment with their name on it as soon as they'd both got jobs that made enough money to pay rent. She hadn't told Jocelyn yet, but she was making an effort to enjoy their last few months living together like she had when she was younger, and that meant not picking fights, even when mom was being unreasonable.

Really, really unreasonable, like not wanting Clary to go to the grocery store. Or Java Jones. Or Simon's house. Or to see Simon's band tonight at a youth center, with _adult supervision_. They'd had to edit all the bad language out of the lyrics, which was unfortunate, since that was essentially all the lyrics.

"I feel fine, I just had a super weird dream." Clary handed the plate of fruit to Jocelyn and flopped upside down onto the couch. Jocelyn had that look on her face that meant she was thinking of her studio and not really paying attention, but she glanced up, at least.

"Hmn? what about?"

Clary blew orange hair out of her face and twisted sideways so she could stretch her spine. "I don't know. I started out standing on this huge tower, looking down on the city, but it wasn't New York?" Jocelyn nodded absently. "And the tower I was standing on was made of something clear, like crystal or glass, and I could see these three other glass towers, and there were all these crazy demon-y creatures trying to fly into the city, and I felt like I had to stop them, like for some reason that was my job? But all I had was this fountain pen and I kept trying to make it into a sword, like in that book Simon is reading, but it wouldn't go." she glanced up at her mother, then flipped her legs over the arm of the chair to sit up. "Mom, are you okay?" Jocelyn had gone the color of old milk, but she shook her head firmly.

"It's fine, Clary, I was just thinking about one of the paintings I left out in Luke's truck. can you grab me the taping kit and the plastic from my room? I need to make a phone call."

Clary nodded and slid off the couch altogether. "You're sure that's it? you looked really wigged for a second."

Jocelyn smiled reassuringly, and some of the color had already come back to her face. "I'm sure I'm sure, tidbit. go on."

Clary got up, turning towards the door to Jocelyn's room. As she did, she felt a weight press against her back, and saw something white in her vision press against her face and an odd, sharp smell filled her nose. She hardly had time to struggle as her vision faded, and she tried to scream for her mother, but hardly any sound got out as the world went black.

 

.

 

Clary woke with a start, head pounding, and found herself in a strange place, lying on something hard in the dark. For as second, she thought she was back in the weird dream, except that this was so much more real. She lying on a wooden table, and her hands were tied together with some kind of itchy-rough rope.

_What happened?_ very quickly turned into _Jesus. I've been kidnapped_ and _how did they get into my house? is mom okay?_  She sat up, slowly, searching the dark room. It looked like an apartment, albeit a nice one, so she'd clearly been kidnapped by someone rich. The windows were covered, which meant nothing good, but she was alone. She took a deep breath and pushed the part of her that wanted to scream to the back of her head. Get it together, Clary. Be smart about this.

Her hands and feet were both bound with the cord. Upon closer inspection it looked like it might be hemp, but it wasn't tight enough to keep her from wiggling her hands a little, and she was flexible enough to get her feet untied. The knot at her wrists was more complicated, and she pulled at it with her teeth as she stood up from the table.

There was only one door in the room, but when she carefully turned the knob, it was locked from the outside, but there wasn't even a keyhole or tab on this side. She took another deep breath. There was a light switch by the door, but she didn't dare turn it on in case someone was nearby outside and saw the light. She felt her way along the walls for a closet or a weapon or something, but all she felt were curtains and a couple of locked cabinets and the wooden table.

The window was blacked out with thick, inflexible plastic, and she could only tear away a corner of it with her bound hands before she sliced her fingers badly. From the little hole she'd made she could see the street, but it was at least five floors below, so no chance of escape from there. Her breath was starting to hitch and shorten with panic. Keep it together, Fray. You can do this.

She tried the door again.

With the light from the window, she could actually see the room a little better, which made things much worse. A huge pentacle was carved into the floor under the table she'd been lying on when she woke, and there were several bits of paper and what looked like red candle wax. The papers had grid lines like for a math class, but what was written on them wasn't numbers. A few looked like they might be the some sort of equations, if the equations were in code, and you'd recently taken acid, but others were drawing of markings Clary - almost recognized. Not consciously, or anything, just like it was something she'd seen in a dream. The paper glyph at the head of the table, or at least where her head had been while she was unconscious, seemed almost to glow in the dim light.

Clary took a step forward, looking closer, and reached out to pick the paper up with her bound hands, forgetting the cuts on her hands as she traced the half-familiar curves of the symbol. Something tickled at the back of her mind like a warning. She pulled her hand back for a moment, but she could feel something, just out of reach, and a drop of blood fell from her fingertips onto the rune.

 

_When Clary was very small, she used to play with a faery child in the park. Jocelyn would never have allowed it, but Luke had taken her every Sunday, and had kindly looked the other way while she and Bitterblood had tumbled around and made crowns of twigs and flowers. They had been fast friends, and it had been Bitter who suggested making each other family._

_The idea had been for the two of them to prick their fingers and combine their blood and then press the mix to each of their foreheads, an invented ceremony with all the gravitas of a kindergarten marriage. Neither of them had been prepared for the mixture to smoke and glow, but neither of them were prepared to back down, either. The dot on their foreheads stung, but Clary had blinked back tears and grinned at Bitter, whose eyes had glowed unearthly white as they sometimes did, and the two had declared themselves siblings for life._

_It had been two days later that Jocelyn took Clary to Magnus for her second "checkup". Luke had taken her to the park the next Sunday, but when Bitterblood arrived, Clary had not seen them. Her eyes had looked straight through her sibling. Bitter had wept, and Luke had sighed, but Clary's eyes were dry, and the small scar on her forehead was hidden behind her new haircut._

 

The vision cut away, and Clary could see the room again.

She staggered for a moment, trying to fit the memory into her normal, uneventful childhood. She could see, for the first time, gaps where memories should have been, not just the forgetfulness, but _absence_. "You have taken what does not belong to you, Magnus Bane." Said someone in a ringing tone, and Clary, alone in the room, recognized her own voice. " _Give It Back_ ." Her hand slammed down on the rune, pushing her blood into the page and all her will into the command.

_Jace's face, wide open and broken, clutching her hand from his position at her feet, begging._

  
_Isabelle, cold and motionless, no longer beautiful and laughing in death as she had been in life._

  
_Alec and Magnus, looking more like grandfather and grandson than lovers for all Alec's age is more in hard wear than in years, still so in love it hurt to look at, clutching hands at another funeral_. 

  
_Simon, ageless, deathless, alone._

  
Clary screamed and pushed the table away from her. it skidded across the floor and crashed into the opposite wall. her voice rang out again without her permission. "NO! that is not all we were!" She pushed harder at the Rune.

 

  
_Jace, laughing wildly, leaning on her, glowing with light in the summer sun. Dancing with her, marrying her. holding her so tightly she feared they both might break._

  
_Isabelle joyfully fucking her way through the downworld, Meliorn at her side, at her back. her hands on Clary's holding tight._

  
_Alec, serious and fierce, instructing a tiny warlock child to be proud. to "screw the clave." telling the girl she was perfect as she was, not a demon, not a freak. perfect. Magnus, watching, tears in his gold eyes. Clary, watching, learning, knowing._

  
_Simon. oh, Simon._

  
_Bitterblood, sibling, watching from the sidelines, waiting, waiting._  

   
Clary's hand touched her forehead, feeling for the tiny scar, thought of the scars her mother had hidden all these years, thought of the things she knew would come. They would take this from her, if they could, she knew. Her mother and Luke, even Magnus. Seers and Angel magic drew the clave, drew Valentine, so if they found out what she knew, they would take it from her, by force if necessary. She could not that happen.

  
Magnus must have heard the noise. he would be coming. She didn't have much time.

 

.

 

Magnus heard the crash from upstairs and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He'd forgotten to set the sleep spell. He dropped his papers to the desk and sprinted for the stairwell.

  
The door was still magically locked, thank God, but there wasn't much in the workroom to make that kind of crash, especially for a basically vanilla human girl, albeit one who's mother was a shadownhunter and who was popping up with potentially prophetic dreams all of the sudden. He steeled himself and pushed open the door.

  
The table the girl had been lying on was tipped over and pushed against the opposite wall, and every locked cabinet in the room was open. There was blood smeared across the foresight rune Magnus had been toying with, and the ink had burned through the drafting paper, branding itself deep into the wood of the table. The girl herself was standing next to it, her eyes glowing like magefire but brighter, and in her hand was the Stele Magnus had lifted off the Lightwood woman last year. It's tip was bloody, too.

  
A very small "fuck." made it's way out of magnus' throat, and the girl turned to face him.

"Magnus Bane." she said, voice echoing. the light in her eyes began to dim, and she gestured him further inside. "Come in. We have to talk."


End file.
